


Soul to Squeeze

by orphan_account



Category: Red Hot Chili Peppers (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Soul to Squeeze

Soul to Squeeze

Notes pierce the air, and I watch John’s dancing a few feet from me, his smiling eyes on his Telecaster. I can see his face now, unlike a few weeks ago when his long hair doubled as a curtain. John opens his mouth wide, hitting all the right places, and Flea’s bending over his bass, bopping his head to the same drum beat that I’m swaying to. Continuing to sing, my attention returns to the audience. They’re reflecting the words back to me, some of them holding up lighters. 

Today love smiled on me  
It took away my pain, say please  
I'll let your ride be free  
You gotta let it be  
Oh yeah

John moves back up to the mic to help with the chorus, his beautiful harmonies completing my voice, and I melt as he smiles warmly back at me.

Where I go I just don't know,  
I got to, gotta, gotta take it slow.  
When I find my piece of mind  
I'm gonna give you some of my good time...

The guitarist moves across the stage behind me and over to Flea for the bridge; they circle each other, grinning from ear to ear, and I can’t help but smile too. This is a sad song but for some reason we’re all so happy to play it... 

I’m so polite indeed...

It doesn’t take me long though, to realize that something is terribly wrong with my microphone, because all of a sudden I can barely hear myself sing through the feedback in my ears. The cheers have lessened to a dull, distant roar in my head. Pressing my ears with my fingers, I scream silently and bend over as a searing rush of pain courses through my skull. Shaking, I have to sit down on the stage, bringing the mic to the floor with me. John notices immediately, and is on his knees at my side in seconds. 

“Anthony?” He puts his hand on my arm, both of us slick with sweat, and then rests his other on my neck as he speaks into my ear. “You’re, you’re shaking, what is it?” 

“What!?” 

Flea appears on my other side, having set down his bass, the song obviously stopped.

“What happened, man?!”

“I don’t know, I can’t hear you!” I cringe, holding my throbbing head. “Can you hear me, John?”

He nods and moves my hands and hair away from my ear to see what the problem is. I’m terrified when he comes back with a look of horror, and he tries to remove my earpiece, but I squeal and jump away from him before he can do so. It’s bleeding; I can feel my ear filling with hot liquid. My ears are ringing really loudly now, the only thing I can hear.

Chad runs up behind us. John says something like, “Go get a doctor” to our drummer, and he’s met by some people backstage. John and Flea haul me to my feet, and Flea picks up my mic, before going over to his own to address the crowd.

He runs back to John and me, now closer to the side of the stage, and with lots of people around us. I watch, feeling helpless, back on the floor, as they mouth words back and forth to each other. “He has to go to the hospital.” 

Tears form in my eyes, I’m shaking my head. Please, not my good ear. I live by that ear. John takes my hand, kneeling by me again, his guitar gone now, searching my eyes. “It’ll be okay.”

I nod, understanding, trying to focus on only John even though I can’t hear him and don’t really agree.

“I love you,” he mouths next.

Forgetting about the pain and ringing in my ears for a few seconds, I smile a little and wrap my arms around his neck. 

I’m pulled to my feet again. A doctor’s arrived. “Can you hear me, Anthony?” 

Fuck no, you dimwit. The doctor shines a flashlight in my ear, and moves to my other side to check the other one. Though my whole head hurts, only my left one seems to be bleeding. Flea comes over to rub my back, and starts talking to the doctor. The man’s vibe is apprehensive, and John takes my hand again, making me look at him, as if just to take my attention away from it. I keep my eyes fixed on John’s, he won’t leave me. 

I can feel the doctor pull out my earpiece, and it doesn’t hurt. He has a cloth and a Q-tip, and starts to wipe the blood out of my ear. John asks him something, and the doctor nods, handing him the cloth. Moving to where the doctor had been standing, John sends me a small smile and gets to work. He’s so gentle with me, his other hand steadying my shoulder.

Flea moves in front of me, motioning to his ear with his finger, spinning it around. Then he points to my right hand, the bit of silver around my finger, and I understand, nodding. He wants to know if my ears are ringing.

The doctor tells them something, and they both look at each other, and then at me. John, finishing with my ear, steals the doctor’s pad of paper and a pen, thinks for a second, and writes in his own boyish handwriting:

They said it’ll probably come back sometime in the next 9-48 hours or so, but if it doesn’t, it doesn’t... you just have to rest and wait it out. 

He shows it to me, and I bite my lip, and say what I remember sounds like “Okay.”

John looks at me apologetically, Flea rubbing my shoulders again. He gives the doctor back his pen and paper, and I turn around, needing a place to sit. They follow me backstage, and I sit on the first thing I see, an equipment crate. Flea brings me some water, and I down it gratefully.

I watch John dry himself off with a towel, and he offers one to me. I wipe the sweat off my arms and my face, and set it on the crate beside me, laying my head between my knees. I feel John sit down next to me, his hand in my hair. I cover his hand with mine, and stand up. 

“I wanna get out of here.” I may not be able to hear myself, but I know how to speak. 

John and I slip out the back toward the busses; thankfully no one is waiting for us or clambering for an autograph. His bus is nearest, so we climb the steps to that one. As soon as we’re inside, I wrap him in a huge hug, wanting to cry into his shirt. “You’re too good to me, Johnny. Thank you.”

John kisses my temple, and I look up at him. His concentration moves to my ear, and I close my eyes, resting my cheek against his. Brushing my hair away, he kisses my ear, and wipes my eyes with his thumb. We press our foreheads together, and I open my eyes to look into his, my arms still around him. I want to kiss him so badly, I want to hear his voice...

There’s nothing to stop me. John meets me halfway, reading my mind, our lips crashing together. My remaining four senses ignite, feeling his skinny arms around me, his warm mouth on mine, my hands roaming his face and body... Tasting him, smelling him, sweet sweat and John-smells... Seeing every inch of him, even with my eyes closed. 

We disappear into his bedroom, falling into the sheets on the bed. He’s still holding me, kissing me back with every bit of the passion in him. My hands explore all of John, and I start to unbutton his flannel, a job he finally has to help me with. 

Our lips reclaim each other when his shirt is off, and I move to a bare, beardless part of his neck, suckling it and biting his shoulder. Our legs tangle together, and I lay my aching head on his chest. 

I start to laugh as we lay there together, breathing hard. “So much for resting until my hearing comes back.” I can feel John laughing too, and I can feel his heartbeat slowing down. He runs his hand through my hair, and I pull up on my elbow to kiss him again. John smiles against my lips, and we roll onto our sides, joining hands. It’s amazing how much you react to other senses when you don’t have one of them. How much you pay attention.

I remember how tired out I am from the show, and my eyes grow heavy until I have to close them. I feel John’s breath on my cheek, and love how our hands fit together, maybe we’ll wake up like this tomorrow...

 

“Aww.”

“Should we wake them?”

“No, let ‘em sleep.”

“Shhh...”

“Hey, maybe John wanted to play doctor.”

“Didn’t he already?”

“Oh, quiet! Look!”

I move closer to John in my half-sleep, my hand moving up his arm, until it stops on his jaw. He smiles at my touch, and whispers my name, pecking my lips. Sunlight flows brightly through the small window in this room, and my eyes open. At the sight before me, I promptly bury my face in John’s shoulder, causing him to open his eyes as well.

Chad, Flea, and Dave Lee are all in the doorway discussing us. And I can hear them.


End file.
